


Breaking Point

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Couch Sex, F/M, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, Non-SHIELD AU, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: A late summer heatwave makes Fitz and Jemma feel bold. In the end, does it really matter who made the first move?





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raptorlindsay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raptorlindsay/gifts).



> Thanks to [bigfunnywords](http://bigfunnywords.tumblr.com/) and [memorizingthedigitsofpi](http://memorizingthedigitsofpi.tumblr.com/) for betaing!
> 
> Written for a prompt requested by bigfunnywords/raptorlindsay for the Fitzsimmons Smutathon that Pi and I are running over on Tumblr (check it out [here](http://memorizingthedigitsofpi.tumblr.com/post/163448332512/for-those-of-you-who-want-to-read-more-smut-or)!), but I'll share the prompt in the end notes.

Jemma let out a groan as she flopped back onto her bed. The muggy air outside meant it felt overly warm, even in her air conditioned bedroom. Her water glass sat empty on the table next to her, the cable had gone out, and the Wifi was down thanks to a late summer storm, but none of that explained why she was so frustrated.

No, she was so frustrated because she had been infuriatingly attracted to her friend and neighbor, one Leopold James Fitz, for months. And he had no idea.

Her phone buzzed beside her, and she squeezed her eyes shut before taking a look, as if to steel herself against his charms. Fitz’s name glowed on the screen, and she swiped to read his latest text.

 

> _**Leo Fitz:** With the amount we pay in rent, you’d think Gonzalez would be able to supercharge the AC, or at least spring for a ceiling fan. _

 

She smirked, then began to type out a reply, stretching her legs out on the bed and crossing one ankle over the other.

  

> _**Jemma Simmons:** I wouldn’t mind a pool, while he’s at it. _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** AC first. Some of us are indoor types, you know. _

 

Jemma barked a laugh. She did know, and his complexion, bordering on pasty, could attest to the fact. Somehow, she found it oddly cute, which annoyed her to no end.

 

> _**Jemma Simmons:** Maybe you should emerge from your apartment more often. You could use a little vitamin D. Any vitamin at all would do, really. _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** My daily multivitamin is sufficient, thanks very much, Jemma. _
> 
> _**Jemma Simmons:** Flintstones chewables aren’t recommended for adults, LEO. _

She chuckled to herself as she awaited the agitated response she’d been trying to invoke. He didn’t make her wait long.

  

> _**Leo Fitz:** First of all, they’re adult gummies and they’re perfectly nutritious. _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** Secondly, you’d better not call me that again. _
> 
> _**Jemma Simmons:** Is that right? And what will you do if I do? _

 

Idly stroking one thumb up and down the edge of her phone, she watched the three dots appear, then disappear, appear, disappear, appear, disappear. Just when she thought he was going to leave her unsatisfied, he replied:

  

> _**Leo Fitz:** I guess I’d just have to taste you _

 

Her heartbeat quickened in her chest, and it felt like her blood was thrumming beneath her skin. Had he really just said that? All those months of buildup and frustration, and he’d just-- She blinked down at the phone in her hand. He really, really had. _Holy shit._

Letting the phone fall facedown onto the bedcovers next to her, Jemma sat up so quickly she felt light-headed-- or maybe Fitz’s comment had done that? As warm as it was in her room, she had to suppress a shiver.

Then reality set in. She stood up and started to pace.

Exactly where did he get off, making a comment like that? They hadn’t even been flirting! Well-- she supposed they _had_ been flirting, just a little. Or perhaps a lot. And it _had_ been going on for months. Maybe he’d simply reached his breaking point. Maybe he was tired of the charade, tired of evenings spent in twin rickety lawn chairs in the building’s community garden, the two of them in sync about nearly everything except whether to make the first move. Tired of arms brushing in the corridor as they walked together to check the mail more frequently than was strictly necessary. Tired of late night text conversations that left them bleary-eyed and running late for work the next morning.

Maybe he was tired of inaction.

Maybe she was, too.

She swiveled where she stood, taking a long look at herself in the mirror that hung above her dresser. Her hair was up in a messy bun, a necessity in the late summer heat. Her thin camisole concealed little, and her pajama shorts, a pair of boxers she’d pilfered from an ancient ex, were folded over twice. But any thought of freshening up flew from her mind as soon as she imagined the way Fitz might look at her, his blue eyes dark and oh so inviting.

With that, she was out the door.

She reached his place in no time, her knock insistent. For someone who had been so bold just minutes earlier, Fitz certainly took his time to answer his door. When he did, she wasn’t greeted with the bedroom eyes she’d expected. Instead, he looked abashed.

“Jemma, I swear I--”

But that was all she let him get out before she launched herself at him, molding her lips to his and reaching blindly back with one foot to shut the door behind her.

Fitz’s response was muffled, but she could read his shock in the stiffness of his body, and in the way his hands hovered inches above her waist. She released her grip on his shoulders and let her hands slide down to his chest, pulling back just enough to get a look at his face. His eyes had darkened, at least, and he licked his lips.

“Jemma… what--?”

She gave him a smile that was more tremulous than sultry, and exhaled. “Hi, Fitz.”

“What-- hi.” At some point, he’d allowed his palms to settle high on her hips, and his thumbs moved in slow, reflexive circles over the fabric of her tank. “What, um. I suppose I don’t need to ask what brought that on.”

Jemma laughed and bit her lip, letting her hands drift up to the back of his neck. She stroked at the short hairs there, and it was Fitz’s turn to suppress a shiver.

“I suppose not.”

He looked down, his gaze trailing down her body wherever it wasn’t pressed against his, then back up to meet her eyes. “But-- actually, yeah, I do. What brought that on?”

She let out an impatient breath through her nose, and would have stamped her foot, were she not trying to be sexy. “Aren’t you tired of it, Fitz? All this thinking, and never... not ever just…”

“Doing?” he supplied. Jemma nodded, feeling more confident at his seeming to understand.

“I think it’s high time we finally _did_ something.”

“Oh yeah?” Fitz said, the hint of a challenge in his tone, his voice lower than she was accustomed to. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” she whispered. With that, his lips were back on hers, insistent and eager. She bit back a moan as he grasped at the fabric of her shirt, walking her back just a few steps until she hit the edge of his bookcase. A few tchotchkes jostled on the shelves, and a magazine slid to the floor, but she barely noticed, too busy pulling him close.

One of her hands dropped to his hip, her fingers slipping just underneath the waistband of his sweatpants, reveling in the feel of the smooth, hot skin she found there. He gasped into her mouth, and she took the opportunity to lick her way into his.

He pulled back, to her chagrin, and nuzzled his nose against hers as they both caught their breath. “Tell me you want this,” he murmured, and she could feel his lips wet against her cheek. His hands stilled their tugging at her camisole.

Her head fell back to rest against his bookshelf, and the words fell from her lips before she could give them any thought. She didn’t need to. “I want this, Fitz.”

He groaned. “Me too,” he managed, before slipping one hand up the back of her tank to splay along her spine. His other hand inched up her side, the tips of his fingers just brushing the lower curve of her breast, and he latched his mouth onto the place where her neck met her shoulder. Letting out a breathy moan, she tilted her head to the side to give him more room as he licked and sucked his way up her throat. Emboldened by her sighs, the hand on her side trailed upward to cup her breast, his thumb just barely grazing her stiff, sensitive nipple.

She’d never thought she’d be so glad she wasn’t wearing a bra.

His thumb stroked back and forth over her nipple as his other hand dipped low on her waist, pressing her hips closer to his, and suddenly the sensation of it was everything and never enough all at once. Jemma pushed off from the bookcase, nearly upending them both as she kissed him again and urged him towards the couch.

The edge of the cushion hit the back of his knees and he dropped down into a seated position. Jemma wasted no time before straddling him, and they both moaned at how their hips slotted together.

“Jemma,” he whispered, looking up at her in the dim light of his living room. His eyes were dark and inviting, at last, just like she’d thought they’d be. She kissed him softly, once, twice, then with more fervor, experimentally rolling her hips against his. He cursed into her mouth.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” he murmured when they broke the kiss, her hips still working rhythmically over his.

She smirked, though her breathing was unsteady thanks to the feeling of his hardness grazing her clit through the fabric of their clothing, over and over and over again. “Want me to pinch you?”

He looked dazed, his mouth hanging slightly open, but he managed a chuckle. “Want _me_ to?” Then he slid his hand up and pinched at her nipple. She let out a sound that was halfway between a giggle and a moan, and then stripped off her camisole in one fluid motion. His gaze zeroed in on her naked breasts like true north. She opened her mouth to tease him, but the words died on her tongue as he leaned forward and sucked one nipple between his perfect pink lips.

“God, Fitz,” she said, not caring how brazen she sounded. She arched her back to give him better access and ran her hands through his hair, over his stubble, across his shoulders and back. He tongued at her insistently, and when he bit down gently, she gasped, her hips stuttering forward. He leaned back, and the smug expression he wore was almost infuriating enough for her to put a stop to the whole thing. _Almost._

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” she asked instead, trying to divert the attention back to him. He looked down at himself-- black sweatpants (complete with a tantalizingly intriguing bulge at the front) and a grey t-shirt, a clear contrast to Jemma in his lap, plaid boxers just grazing her thighs and no shirt on at all.

Unable to argue with that, he reached back and pulled his t-shirt over his head, getting only slightly stuck in his haste. He tossed it onto the floor, and Jemma immediately ran her hands over his exposed chest.

“There. Much better,” she said, skimming her palms over his pectorals (more well-formed than she might have expected, and only half as pasty), over his ribs, and down to his stomach. When her fingertips grazed the skin around his bellybutton, he jerked, sucking in air through his teeth. She quirked an eyebrow. “Ticklish, are we?”

He tried to glare at her, but his lidded eyes and kiss-swollen mouth betrayed him. “No.”

That was all the invitation she needed. Jemma scooted back on his lap to give herself room, then dug her fingers into the skin of his stomach, giggling at his answering shriek. She’d just found an enticing spot when he gripped her firmly around the waist and flipped them both around so she was sitting low on the couch, her hair fanned around her head along the back cushion, as he knelt between her knees. Tickling was suddenly the last thing on her mind.

“I think maybe you’re the one who’s overdressed now,” he said, his knuckles trailing down the soft skin of her sides to grasp the waistband of her boxers. His words sounded confident, but his touch was hesitant, his gaze hopeful.

“It is a bit warm in here, isn’t it?” she answered. With a nod, he tugged at her shorts, and she lifted her arse so he could divest her of them completely, leaving her sprawled on the couch in only her underwear.

“Never known Jemma Simmons to be anything but utterly freezing,” he said, though his attention was drawn to her newly-exposed skin. “Usually your hands are like little ice buckets.”

Feeling even warmer under the weight of his gaze than she had earlier in an overheated apartment, she breathed a laugh. “I suppose you have the magic touch,” she joked, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Is that so,” he murmured, and she held her breath in anticipation. He began to run his palms up and down the tops of her thighs, higher and higher, and she had to bite back an impatient whine. His fingertips grazed the edges of her underwear, and she spread her legs wider, unwilling to wait. After what felt like ages, he let his index finger trail up and down the damp center of her panties, causing her to let out a ragged breath. She rolled her hips forward, pushing herself against his hand, and he either took the hint or simply couldn’t wait any longer himself. He slipped two fingers underneath the fabric and dipped them into her wetness, swirling deliciously and brushing against her clit just so.

“Fitz.” His name fell from her lips, and she let her eyes fall shut. He tugged at her underwear, rougher this time, and she eagerly tilted her hips to allow him to remove her last scrap of clothing. Before she could open her eyes, he’d gently pushed her legs apart and crouched down to swipe his tongue against her once, twice, three times.

She could do nothing but grip the couch cushions beside her and try to keep her whimpers to a minimum as he circled her clit over and over again with his careful tongue before dipping down to gather more wetness and repeat. Her thigh muscles clenched and unclenched, her chest heaving. Moving his hand from where it had rested on one thigh, he slipped a finger inside of her and moved it in and out as his mouth worked at her clit, and she rolled her hips in sync with his motions, again and again. She felt as if she were on fire, and could scarcely believe it was Fitz’s mouth, Fitz’s tongue, Fitz’s body, _Fitz_ doing this to her.

Finally, he sucked her clit between his lips and hummed, and she fell apart against him, her orgasm cascading over her in waves. He kept at it until she’d calmed, her whimpers dying down to sated sighs. He sat back on his heels, his palms resting on her knees, and she’d never seen him look so proud.

“Fitz,” she began, still catching her breath. “That was…”

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, sounding equally as breathless. He bit his lip, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say such a thing-- as if he hadn’t just made her come on his couch in five minutes flat.

Sitting back on the sofa, Jemma reached for his hand and pulled him up to sit beside her, his clothed knee brushing against her bare one. He looked bashful, and as much as she liked this gentle, shy version of Fitz, she also liked the sexy, cocky persona he’d exhibited earlier. (In truth, she was beginning to think she liked all versions of Fitz.)

“Do you have any condoms?” she asked, her fingers toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants. His eyes followed her fingers, distracted.

“Hmm?”

Jemma rolled her eyes, then palmed his cock through his pants, making him gasp audibly. “Condoms.”

“Oh!” he barked. He extricated him from her grip (but not before she got a solid squeeze in, eliciting a “Oh shit Jemma fuck” from him) and disappeared into his bedroom, coming back seconds later with a full box.

She laughed. “How many are you anticipating we’ll need?” she asked, and he just shrugged, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. He ripped into the box and pulled one out just as she reached over and yanked his pants down. He kicked his way out of them and then there he was, standing in front of her in only his boxer briefs. Jemma appreciated the view for a moment, enjoying the way the fabric clung to his arse and accentuated the bulge at the front of his shorts, but she no longer had any patience for clothing. She tugged the offending garment down, too, and his cock sprang free, hard against his stomach, the tip of it shining with wetness.

She licked her lips and leaned forward, eager to taste him just like he’d tasted her, but he stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder and a grimace on his face.

“That’s not-- I mean, it is but-- maybe just-- not right now.”

With a shrug, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back down to sit on the couch. “Later, then,” she whispered as she pivoted to straddle him again, this time with nothing to separate them.

She pressed her hips as close to his as she could, and had to rest her forehead against his shoulder at the feeling of his shaft sliding between her wet folds. The head of his cock nudged at her clit, and she let out a long moan. Fitz’s hips moved forward, eager to set a rhythm, and the friction was almost too much to bear, but she managed to pull back just enough to take the open condom from his hand and slide it artfully down his shaft.

Jemma kissed him then, long and slow, and with her eyes still closed, used one hand to guide him into her until he’d filled her completely. She blinked her eyes open and watched fondly as emotions fluttered over his face, one after the other. Then she began to move.

“Fuck,” he muttered, digging his hands lightly into the sides of her hips to help her movements and thrusting up into her. She loved the way she felt fully in control at this angle, the way she could rise up and drop back down, the way she enveloped him inside her and made him groan. She rolled her hips on her next thrust, rubbing her clit against him.

“Touch me,” she whispered to him, her eyes closed as she rocked her hips up and back down, up and back down. He reacted immediately. One hand alternated between gentle caresses and playful pinches on one nipple while he leaned forward and pulled the other into his mouth. That goddamn talented tongue.

As Jemma rose and fell on Fitz’s cock, she felt pleasure building inside her, zipping through her veins. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and she gripped the back of the couch behind his head as she plunged down on him with more and more force. He met every thrust with one of his own.

His mouth on her breasts became unfocused as he grew more distracted, and she captured his lips with a sloppy, wet kiss. Groaning into her mouth, he slid both hands around her back and down to her arse, squeezing it hard and pulling her down impossibly tighter against him with her next stroke. Jemma cried out, pleasure radiating through her as she came again-- less intense this time, but somehow even more satisfying.

She continued to ride him through her orgasm, and his movements grew frantic, pulling her down onto his cock harder and harder, again and again, trying unsuccessfully to focus enough to return her messy kisses. With one last, long thrust, he fell back against the couch with a heavy sigh. Still breathing erratically, she hugged herself against him, laying her head on his shoulder and nuzzling at his neck with her nose.

“Wow.”

She chuckled. “I’d concur.”

Fitz traced his hand lazily up and down her spine and she hummed contentedly. She knew he’d need to pull out of her soon, but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

“That was…”

“Mmhmm.”

“I guess maybe you don’t hate me, after all.”

Jemma frowned against his shoulder, then raised her head. “What?”

Fitz cocked his head to the side. “I mean,” he stammered. “After that little slip-up. Earlier. The text.”

Slip-up? “What on earth are you on about, Fitz?”

“When I… accidentally….”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she fixed him with a stern look. “You accidentally _what_?”

The tips of his ears redder than they had any right to be given the fact that he was still inside of her, Fitz reluctantly grabbed his phone from where it had fallen between the cushion and the arm of the couch and handed it over. Frowning, Jemma squinted at the screen in the darkness, and picked up the conversation where they’d left off-- when she’d dropped her phone onto her bed and decided to take matters into her own hands.

 

> _**Leo Fitz:** I guess I’d just have to taste you _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** Oh bloody duck _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** Jemma _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** I didn’t mean that _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** I mean, I didn’t mean to type that _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** It’s the bloody ducking autocorrect _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** **fucking _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** TASE you. I’d have to TASE you. Daisy left her TASER on the counter and I’ve been playing with it and _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** Oh my god you hate me _
> 
> _**Leo Fitz:** Jemma?  
>  _

 

She read over it again, and a long moment passed before she could bring her eyes up to meet his. His brows knitted together, his shoulders tense.

Jemma spoke slowly. “So you’re telling me that you seduced me… by accident?”

“Well… technically, _autocorrect_ seduced you. By accident.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she blinked at him.

“All’s well that ends well?” he suggested with a sheepish grin.

She stewed silently for a beat, before her fingers flew to the sensitive skin at the sides of his stomach, making him squirm. “You’ll bloody well pay for that one, _Leo_.”

And he did. Two more times that night, and once the following morning.

In the end, they both agreed, it was ducking worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt: the age-old "sext gone wrong, but in a hot way."
> 
> Want to hang out on Tumblr? I'm [unbreakablejemmasimmons](http://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com/) over there!


End file.
